Bad Games

41



The light shuffling of footsteps from above had been a constant the entire time Jim held the Lamberts captive in his mother’s basement. When the smell of baked cookies floated their way down the basement stairs, Jim’s heartfelt smile nearly gave way to tears.

“Bless her heart,” he said after a strong sniff of chocolate and cookie dough. “Listen to her scurrying around up there. She’s so excited.”

And then the light shuffling above became hurried shuffling. The sound of a door opening. Muffled voices, enthusiastic in pitch. More footsteps, both heavy and light.

Jim looked at the ceiling, his eyes widening with excitement, mouth hanging open before curling upward into a smile. “You hear that?” he whispered, still looking at the ceiling. “Hundred to one they’re here.” He brought his attention back to the bound couple on the floor. “My brother and your kids are here.”